(The restaurant is near a Navy base and thus, sometimes, sailors and officers off-duty come to eat. A man and his girlfriend come in. They haven’t reserved a table, were rude and snotty with my co-workers, complained a lot about the food and talked loudly and sometimes mocked the other customers. My manager decides that enough is enough when the man lit a cigarette after requesting his bill.)

Manager: “Sir, you can’t smoke here.”

Customer: “Yes I can.”

Manager: “Sir, you’re in a smoke-free zone. Either go away or put out this cigarette.”

(The customer gets up. He’s clearly taller and larger than the manager and glances at him.)

Customer: “Buddy, listen. I’m a Navy’s lieutenant, so I’m not going to take crap from civvies. Just shut up and let me smoke.”

(At this point, I decide to call the police when I notice another customer with his family getting up and going straight to the troublemaker.)

Customer #2: “Did I hear you’re in the Navy?”

Customer: “Yeah, so?”

Customer #2: “You work at the base here?”

Customer: “What? Get the f*** out, you d*** civvie!”

Customer #2: “You know [name]?”

Customer: “Who the f*** are you and what the f*** do you want?”

Customer #2: “Do you know [name]?”

Customer: “[name] is my superior!”

Customer #2: “Well, I’m HIS superior, and as soon as I’m out of here, I’ll make sure he lights your a** up.”

(The second customer pulls out a military ID and shows it to him. The troublemaking customer goes white, apologizes profusely to the manager and the customer, pays his bill and storms off with his girl WHILE SOBBING. Turns out the man showed him his military ID, and he’s a Navy’s rear-admiral. Needless to say, we gave a huge discount to the officer.)